I’ve never had a truly horrific embarrassing moment. I’m just reflecting trying to think of one. But the evidence that I have to think about it says I didn’t have a terrible incident. Least none that have shocked me to my core.

In second grade I think I peed my pants while going through the lunch line. Obviously embarrassing but I don’t recall scars of torment from other kids.

There’s always the potential embarrassment when you see someone reveal their inner imperfect-self through an accident of some sort, when we’re suppose to give a facade of perfection.

Just this evening while chit-chatting to pass time with the man cooking my spicy potato roti, I saw a lady with a kart tip her tote boxes off the side.

I hear the breaking glass and saw the broken clear plastic. Her face was more red then the wine pooling on the cerement. I felt for her. To help her through the moment best I decided to not give her my attention, as another passerby was already helping her clean up.

This anguish is common. We try to act normal and sane in front of a crowd or an individual and if something goes awry we blush, stay still and quiet. I try to be accommodating and help people through the embarrassment.

Coincidentally this can also be rather adorable when a women’s demure presents itself. In a nervous chuckle, red cheeks, small grins followed by looking away. Always brings a smile to my face.

And another lazy day passes. With a stretch and a sip of tepid water, waking with the sun this morning I was at odds with myself yet again. A drowsy mind that just wants to waste hours on my phone, than do something productive like writing, preparing healthy meals, or exercise. Not that I’d describe it as a permanent state of war within myself, it’s more like an insidious disconnection.

What a conundrum to be in … I have to have a giant will to be productive. I have to fight myself to read. I have to fight myself to play video games. And these are things I like to do.

For the moment, the solution I can see is becoming connected with what life I want to be living. It must be a constant reminder for me unti a habit forms. As living in the now, or moment, has a lot of wisdom but it can also distract from strategy that forms my future.

Being connected starts internally. This yields decisiveness. And without that, nothing, good or ill, ever goes forward.

Smooth. My first thought to this was the feeling a woman’s soft, smooth skin. I’m not exactly sure what that means. I know it’s one of the first things I think about with a new potential partner.

I daydream about getting to feel her vibe–not just her skin. The harmless musings of yet another hopeless romantic.

I’m happy with myself that it is something I care and daydream about. It’s nice moment. For me it’s about the little things like that. A gentle squeeze of my hand. The adorable little sneeze a girl can do. Captivating eyes looking into mine.

If I linger on it long enough I start to get lonely. But also hopeful I guess. Hopeful for life to happen when I least expect it. A chance to sweep an amazing girl off her feet.

The demanding words we all utter. It is the fourth cup of coffee on the other groggy morning that week. The extra veggies, black beans and guacamole on a burrito bowl. *drool* Or that mammoth of a computer we’ve been dying to have for years now. *drooling intensifies*

Consume. Consume. Consume. The guttural grunts of an insatiable monstrosity. It dominates and devours, finding only temporary satisfaction. Forever doomed to drone on to the next vain attempt at fulfillment.

The allure of an intriguing book or game is all too salivating to pass up. *Caah Ching* And what little money I have goes away, in small, harmless spurts of innocence.
This leads to nothing more than a shelf full of unread books, a backlog of games that would make the most seasoned of players cringe merely adding up to an empty wallet.

‘I may as well get it now.’ The trickery. ‘I’ll read this later.’ The folly. ‘It’s like five dollars’ Ha, oh past me. The nerve of you for thinking such things.

Intellectually I know all the graphically endowed games that I could play won’t ever bring me true lasting happiness … but I still want them. In a way the idea of fun is more fun than actually having fun. If I were a stereotypical old lady this would be my sewing, crocheting and bargain escapades at yard sales. I just go out and make a day of it.

I don’t think it’s wrong of me to want to play DOOM or Total War: Warhammer, which would melt my current laptop .Getting that large almond latte, over a lovely conversation, can be a real boon to a crappy day. The issue lies in the normality of wanting. The insidious pattern that develops.

The only weapon I can muster is vigilance. An awareness, by its definition, removes the mindlessness of incessant wanting; to pick and choose correctly. Maybe one new book/game for every two I complete – What a thing to master, right?

This has dominated my thoughts the past few months. I’ve been wrestling with the big questions…‘What does it mean to be a masculine?’ What does it mean to be a man in our modern world?’ Naturally, these questions arose from wanting to date and understand women better, but I’ve really started to live in my masculinity instead.

I call myself a feminist; it’s a given to me that women should be treated equally under the law in society. Society, the unsexy logistics of gender neutral society. But in dating the very thing that attracts me to a women is her femininity, not her neutrality. And I’m willing to wager a woman wouldn’t be attracted by me acting neutral either.

Growing up with two sisters and my mother most of the time, thanks to my dad travelling for work, I feel I grew up in my feminine not masculine. Not that I was raised poorly or anything, in reflection this just seems to have played a part in this masculine murkiness of dating I’ve had. Though my father is the pure embodiment of masculine I was not offered lessons on how to act from my own masculine core. So I often felt an imbalance of not acting on my masculine.
Once I got to high school, most of my peers were dating. Time after time I struck out. Never getting anywhere. I resigned myself as being terrible with women, that dating was something you’re born with and I just don’t have it. I gave up and just hoped to fall into a relationship one day…which of course never happen. Years went by with nothing but it did however happen for me when I decided to take masculine action.
I’ve taken action for the first time in my life to put myself out there and go after the things I want. It’s masculine to ask the girl out. That’s why they want us to ‘make the first move’.
It’s like saying ‘I’m going this way, I want you to come with me.’ Instead of ‘oh I’ve been nice and maybe you’d think about letting me go with you.’ It’s simple confidence versus cowardice. Having the resolve and integrity to choose a path, even though I might fail – will likely fail anyway – and stick with it and fail with some personal flair, get back up and do it all over again.
Masculinity is having the fortitude to participate, despite not being good, and giving it your best shot. To own the shit out of who I am and embody it everywhere I go. The ability to take the reins of a situation and guide myself and others through to safety. To have a clear path, and not let anyone talk you out of it, because you know what’s right and what’s wrong.

This has been difficult to conceptualise, let alone put into words. The truth is that I am likely not the only modern man who is unsure of how to act from his masculine or to even question its relevance anymore. I’m likely wrong or off about something…or a few things. I showed up though, I’m having the conversation. I feel it is bold to ask these questions and demand answers for them. What are your answers?

The answers to simplify masculinity into something practical for us guys. It would benefit us immeasurably, as well as the women we pursue.

*Disclaimer. This article originally appeared in the Tertangala and has been republished with full permission.

‘I cannot teach anybody anything. I can only make them think.’ ~ Socrates

I always had certainty. In what was and what was not. How it should be. How it should not be. I was determined and sure of myself. I just knew I was right. That’s how I was…until I came to learn philosophy. And ended up making it my major. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard, ‘What can you do with a philosophy degree?’. Or seen someone conveying a literal or figurative rolling of their eyes at a Bachelor of Arts. Well, it’s not a trade. I’m not going to have a typical job, producing a generic consumer product. It doesn’t lead me into a specific job, so it’s not clear what I’ll obtain. Generic is not what I want from life. Money is not the most important thing to me. The ‘product’ of philosophy is ideas and teaching people to think better. I follow my passions. And they’ve done well for me so far. I once had the plan of working towards being a history teacher; with no doubts. As I’ve learned it’s important to have confidence in yourself, but not excessive confidence. Philosophy has taught me doubt, and doubt is humble. An invaluable lesson. that I will always cherish.

I had a spot to fill in my schedule, at community college in mid 2011, and was given a choice between philosophy or psychology. I knew Socrates was a philosopher in ancient Athens, one of my favorite historical periods, so I figured it would supplement my history degree. But I was completely blown away by the information I was exposed to in that Intro to Philosophy Class. Nothing teaches you such profound lessons like philosophy does. The Meditations of Rene Decartes, the writings of Bertrand Russell on Realism versus George Berkeley’s Idealism, the dynamic between the two main ethical theories, of John Stuart Mill’s Consequentialism and Immanuel Kant’s Deontology discussing how to make the right decision. What is right? Why is right good? How do we determine what is good? These and other examples made me think like I never had before. Suddenly the definitive sureness of nearly everything I had known, was drawn into question. What’s really true? How do we know what’s true? What is true? Such simple, deep and beautiful questions.

I do philosophy because it is evocative, innately meaningful and valuable. It makes you think, begs you to question and, at least with me, awakens an urge to know the answer. As my first handout, I was given on day one, says ‘Philosophy is the rational attempt to formulate, understand and answer fundamental human questions.’ At one time or another, in all of our lives, we ask such questions. It is an intrinsic part of the human condition. I’d consider my life a good one if I could spend it in discussions and helping others analyse such questions and ideas, cultivating our minds. Just enjoying the ability to do so. Studying these ideas has helped me clear my mind of contradictory beliefs, as well as remove those I’ve determined to be wrong. It has bolstered the positions and opinions I still hold. It has lowered my defenses by being open to alternatives and has taught me to empathise. To see an issue from two points of view; knowing full well that I could be wrong in any belief I hold. In other words; it has reined in my arrogance by teaching humility. That is the ideal, and I have far from mastered it in all areas. Yet overall, philosophy has changed who I am for the better and continuing to learn as much of it as I can will only make me an even better person. I am eternally grateful for having such a valuable path to learn and evaluate information as well as the profound effect it has had on me. I highly recommend philosophy to everyone; it can supplement anyone’s life and education immensely.